


my love is a nesting bird

by hamiltrashed



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Love, M/M, Romance, Sex, and write kind of sad sappy things about rick and daryl, because i can't help myself, in which i am a heinous bitch, in which sex is equivalent to hope, love in the time of apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltrashed/pseuds/hamiltrashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes it is frozen bodies in the early morning, outside, sharing heat and touch and an extra spark of life. sometimes it is late nights in the showers, fast and frantic, fingers trembling with excitement and the fear of being caught. sometimes it is in the guard tower, guarding nothing but each other and the time they have carved out for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my love is a nesting bird

it all relies on stolen moments. they are not stealing them from anybody in particular, or if they are, it is perhaps some long dead god or the universe. but they feel stolen nonetheless. they sneak around like errant teenagers, meet in secret as if somebody will tell them to stop, and in some strange way, it’s all the better for that.

they are faithful about every promised rendezvous; a minute late and panic will creep into the cracks of their hearts, eyes will seek for the other like searchlights until relief floods the veins like a sweet medicine when they step around the corner, or find one another half in the hollow of a tree as ancient as anything.

sometimes it is frozen bodies in the early morning, outside, sharing heat and touch and an extra spark of life. sometimes it is late nights in the showers, fast and frantic, fingers trembling with excitement and the fear of being caught. sometimes it is in the guard tower, guarding nothing but each other and the time they have carved out for this.

rick won’t tell daryl, but for him, it’s about peace. even when daryl prods at the animal inside rick, even when it’s rough and loud and raw, it’s about peace. rick will give it or take it, it doesn’t matter. all that matters is his face buried in the space between daryl’s neck and shoulder, beads of sweat against his lips, each noise that escapes him one of satisfaction, of a calm that manages to persist despite the chaos of a hastily planned tryst. 

and daryl won’t tell rick, but for him, it’s about feeling whole. daryl is not the kind of man to feel whole on his own; the right to feel that way was taken from him a long time ago, when he was young, when someone beat him and stripped away pieces of him he didn’t know he had until they were gone. so even when rick is leaving fingertip bruises on his thighs, or even when daryl has all control, nothing is so important as the feeling of rightness, of being complete, that comes from the way rick says his name like it’s the only word he knows.

what they do tell each other is that it’s about love, which is certainly not untrue. it’s about love and perpetual hope and unending faith. it’s about walking, however slowly, against the current of things; in some small way, it is fighting back. no weapons necessary. clenched fists relax and fingers knit together like the fitting in of puzzle pieces. a crossbow, guns, knives - they are merely set decoration on their stage while they lay themselves bare before one another, both figuratively and literally. 

they’ve been falling on proverbial swords too long to not have this. so rick will tell daryl, ‘please’ and it will mean, ‘above anyone, you were meant to be here; before the world was even a twinkle in a god’s eye, _you_ were dreamt of.’ and daryl will reply with ‘fuck yes,’ an affirmation of rick’s hands on him, and it will mean, ‘you are not the sacrificial lamb you believe yourself to be; you are only _mine_.’

in this place, in this end of days, time is counted on fingers, on walls, in minds. rick will cycle through the hours of the day each morning, lay one out for each thing that must be done to ensure the survival of his ever-growing family, but always, always is there time for daryl. sometimes rick selfishly takes an hour from something or someone else and gives it to daryl and then it really is stolen. he does not think anyone notices. the one person who does is grateful for it, because this is all that is left of salvation.

it’s a balancing act performed on borrowed time. rick is not so heavy with grief and loss in daryl’s arms, and daryl is not so angry when rick threads his fingers into his hair and kisses him long enough to break through every wall he’s ever had to put up. they hang hard on opposite ends of a see-saw, on each side of a scale, and keep each other safe and sane and so in line with one another that some days, the others say rick’s name when they mean daryl, daryl’s when they mean rick.

and at the end of the day, most importantly, it is the easiest thing either of them have ever done: loving one another, taking time for one another, knowing one another in such an intimate way. when one misstep could mean death, and they crumble again and again under the weight of all the bloodshed, this is so easy. it’s the simplest thing ever conceived of, falling together hard enough to hold each other up. 

so when they trade looks, or whispers, or the squeeze of a hand, and it means _come with me_ , they’ll always go. even if it means putting off something else, they’ll steal each moment without guilt and go and live. the truth is, it’s so much better to be found in each other, over and over, than to be lost while sitting in the same room. and this storm may yet pass, but while it rains, they’ll take shelter in each other like little nesting birds, grateful for the home they have in each other, grateful for even the smallest trace of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from 'Leeward Side' by Josh Pyke.
> 
> There is a fic with actual, proper sex scenes on the way, I swear. I'm slightly ashamed of just teasing them up to this point. :3


End file.
